Each new day starts off with me being wrong. It's been this way for months and months -- every single day. It's morning again, and I couldn't have been more wrong. Again.
A new day has arrived, and BAM! Donald proves me wrong, once more, that he CAN, in fact, top what he said in all those OTHER previous days I had, way back when, of daily disbelief... days in which, every day, I somehow thought it impossible for him to top himself, and keep topping himself. But he did, every day, just as he does now -- just as he's been doing for almost a year.
The off-the-wall comments began in relatively small and unimportant ways -- strange, but not too strange. Still-connected-to-the-planet strange.
Canny move: Saying something outrageous, and being outrageous, and doing so outrageously, providing himself a free media pipeline for his every sideshow and apparent misstep. After all, people rubberneck at accidents. People are busy, but everyone has time for a Fool.
Besides: There is no more shame, after all -- and any rage has long ago been redirected at false targets. Offering a free bullhorn to an egomaniac or sociopath or narcissist -- take your pick -- is like having everything you love, all at once, on steroids, while on hallucinogens and mood boosters.
[Starry Night, you say? Just a half-forgotten wisp of a lesser dream, that old thing...]